


Always one to surprise the audience

by W_o_l_f_f



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Gen, Hair, Origin Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-04 22:47:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10291964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/W_o_l_f_f/pseuds/W_o_l_f_f
Summary: Why did Viktor Nikiforov chop off all that hair?





	

When Viktor Nikiforov came into practice one gloomy fall day with his gorgeous silver locks chopped off, everyone in the rink was speechless. As he walked through the corridor to the locker room to change into his gear, his rinkmates whispered to themselves about why he had done it. He kept a smile plastered on his face whenever he was asked. He would bring a finger to his lips, feign a look of thought and say “It’s a secret!” with a flirty wink.

“Who broke your heart this time, Viktor?” inquired Georgi, his voice dripping in empathy.

“No one did! I just wanted a change, that’s all!” was his cheerful reply.

The look Georgi gave read “I don’t buy that.” but he said nothing of the sort. Nobody believed that he would chop off the thigh length platinum strands on a whim. He had spent so much of his life growing it out. At 23, he was past the androgynous look of his Juniors days, he had grown into a tall, lean man. His facial features sharpened, turning his youthful softness into chiseled marble. With many journalist writing about his “mischievous elvish charm”, nobody would have ever expected Viktor to go and destroy that image.

Or maybe they did.

Viktor loves to surprise his audience, that’s for sure.

The mystery of his hair boggled some, others were ecstatic, and many fans cried- and sent self-addressed stamped envelopes asking for a lock of the discarded hair as a keepsake.

Nobody had ever correctly guessed his reasons, and Viktor was happy to keep it a secret until the day he died, that is, until a small blonde boy with hardened green eyes plopped down heavily on the bench next to him as he was tying his laces and said “I saw you.”

Viktor sat up straight and stared down at the little boy, confused and alarmed.

“What are you talking about?” the man asked

“I saw what happened. You’re a big idiot” the child replied, as he got up and headed to the locker room door. He turned back and scowled at him. “You should have just put your hair in a braid or something, then it wouldn’t have gotten tangled up in your skates. It’s a shame you had to cut it all off.”

Viktor was mortified, he thought he had been alone that evening.

* * *

 

He came back to the rink, by himself, wanting to work on the choreography he had been putting together. Letting his hair cascade down his back, he took to the ice. Flawlessly, he went through his program, that is until he went from his layback Ina Bauer into a sitting spin. His hair whipped around him in a dramatic display of centrifugal fury. Then he felt a tug. And another. And soon he was tied up in his own hair.

He fell to the ice. Shredding precious locks in the process. A large chunk was ripped from the nape of his neck. He screamed out in pain. After he managed to untangle himself enough to stand, he looked down at the damage. He cried. Viktor fell to his knees and began the process of collecting the hair that had been strewn about the ice. When he finished, he mournfully headed to the locker room to see what was left of his image.

Viktor braced himself before stepping in front of the mirror. With a deep breath he looked up and screamed in horror upon the sight of the disaster that is his hair. Mangled and uneven, it looked like he lost a fight with a lawn mower. No matter which way he turned his head, there was no salvation for his once beautiful hair.

He sobbed as he rummaged through his locker, looking for scissors. He found a pair and went to work on fixing the mess on his scalp. After chopping and snipping he found that he was mostly satisfied with his work until he noticed the hairless patch that was ripped out by the root. He pried open Georgi’s locker and grabbed the man’s clipper case. He had helped Georgi cut his hair enough to know how to create a faded look to hide the hairless patch in. He thanked all the gods he could think of that it was at the bottom of his hair line and was easily disguised.

He stared at himself in the mirror for a few more minutes, running his fingers through the short strands. His cut job was pretty good, but he’d sneak away into a salon a few towns over to get it evened out, and he can at least blame it on a mistake by another stylist when they would inevitably ask _“What happened?”_

Nobody would ever know about the single most embarrassing even that had ever taken place in Viktor Nikiforov’s life.

* * *

 

“You saw that?” Viktor asked, stunned by the realization that this kid- Yuri was it?- had been there when the fiasco happened. “Everything?”

The young skater grimaced at him “Tch, yeah, you were awful, I can’t wait to surpass you.” And with that he headed out to the ice.

Viktor sat on the bench a moment longer to let it sink in and prayed that Yuri would never bring it up again.

He didn’t.

Thank God.

**Author's Note:**

> If this story got a smile or a chuckle out of you, dear reader, then my work here is done. Let me know if I made you smile!


End file.
